


It was always strange - an OC oneshot

by TarryTheTarMonster



Category: No Fandom
Genre: M/M, Original Character(s), Original work - Freeform, Slash, bxb - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-17
Updated: 2019-03-17
Packaged: 2019-11-21 20:27:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,098
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18147044
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TarryTheTarMonster/pseuds/TarryTheTarMonster
Summary: Andy and James were the greatest of friends. Nothing could bring them apart.Andy had a great life, really, before James turned his life upside down.It all happened on the last day of school, on a hot summer afternoon..





	It was always strange - an OC oneshot

It was always strange how the various milkshops and sodashops of my childhood still amaze me to this day. I can recall the times when petty rivalries were so strong it was a shame to even be associated with one of the two sides. It always seemed so perfect, go to school then come home and play bottle caps with your best friend from two door down. How the world seemed so inviting yet so mysterious, like the mysteries of how the telly worked or perhaps the rare tan house among the common white of the 1950’s. Imagine a time when the world was portrayed as simple with the hopes that the impressionable teens like me would follow the black and white examples on the tiny television screens. Most teens grew up to have a wife and wear tan hats and carry briefcases to desk jobs while the love of their life tended the house and the kids. Yet here I am, living with hippies in the woods because my family doesn’t want to see me, god forbid if they spoke to me. As a teen, my life was turned upside down before it had even begun, and all because of that best friend James from two door down.

We were stuck together like apple pie to a pan. No one could separate us or tell us otherwise, as we thought we were the shit and that we were above the others. Yet, it was tolerated, as everyone was chasing dreams of killing communists and soda pops and dancing to records from a jukebox at that local cafe that somehow keeps away the riff-raff. But me and him were close, oh so close, and it was the best friendship in the world. He was the best, kind and playful and he always had a knack for baking. He could bake cookies better than your own damn grandmother, and that’s a bloody fact. But, he was the reason my life decided to take a turn for the worse, and it all started when I was sixteen in 1954.

Summer break had just begun, the toiling heat was shining on our necks and letting tiny glass beads of sweat fall down our face. Being in Sacramento, California had it’s problems, one of them being that summer was the time where God decided to boil us alive just for the fun of it. I kept shifting my backpack around as the heavy bag plus the sweat made my shirt stick to my frame and the space under my Letterman jacket feel like an oven. James seemed unaffected, but that was okay, he was used to wearing leather jackets acting like a greaser, all through us two hanging out together was practically social suicide and we both weren’t allowed in those two groups ranks. The whole facade was like a gang I swear.

Our houses weren’t different from the rest. You know, your common white house with the flowers, grass, and white puckered damn fence. The only difference between the two was that James had a nice maple tree in his yard, which was perfect for climbing or sitting down in one of the branches with a good book. Though climbing was a more preferred activity the do with the tree than reading, though I have thought it of every once and awhile.

So we reached my house, and I had reached out my hand to the lock to swing the white gate open and walk inside and do my homework and avoid my bigger sister. But just as I was about to reach that fabled lock a tanned wrist met my paler one. I froze, staring up at James with my wide, blue eyes. See, James was known to have random bouts of anger and beat up the kid that caused said anger. Usually it was about me, whether I got bullying or not. But, I still feared the power he had, so I shivered when his skin met mine.

“Hey, um..” James seemed awkward. He was always confident with his words so this was a new experience to see the great all powerful greaser stutter. “Can you.. come to my place? That tree-house finally got finished in the back.” James not only had a maple tree in his front yard, but also a bunch in his backyard. They were great old things, big branches that shrouded the roof in dappled sunlight and made the messy grass sparkle with gold and yellow green. His parents were one to not try to keep everything so uniform like the American dream everyone else followed like sheep. They loved to keep things simple, homey, not so modern and space like as it is now. I honestly like that kind of style, though it is strange and out of place it isn’t super rare. Though I swear I smelt pot in his parent’s room, but I found no evidence of it.

“Yeah sure!” I agreed with a smile, peeling my wrist from his hand and following him down the walk. James had been so excited for the new tree-house being built by his father in the back. I guess that excitement rubbed off on me because I helped the both of them with the work of the tree-house. It was simple, a basket with a roof and some curtains but it would be the best place to hang out and plan to annoy the neighbor’s kids across the yard from the trees. We’d call ourselves the monkey squad, as we swung around and threw maple seeds onto their perfect yard and watch the perfectionists freak.

And so, in record time, we raced through the house and out into the yard and up the ladder and into the tree-house. I had shut the trapdoor while James flopped on his sleeping bag and pulled out some math packet we had to do over the summer. We were both kinda maybe nerds, and while most didn’t do this packet, we did it just so we wouldn’t forget what we learned the school year before. Or maybe it was just to spend time together, besides reading comics with Twizzlers or exploding seed bombs on the perfect yard. Hell, they were so perfect they had fake grass, which made it all the more fun.

So I of course pulled out my own packet and merely just sat down on the bright blue sleeping bag that was my own. It had a little fox tucked under the blue fabric and a blue pillow, while James was orange and all over the place with no stuffed animal at all. Though he sometimes teased me for the stuffed animal, I had my reasons that he didn’t need to know.

And we were sitting on the sleeping bags when I noticed that James was moving closer and closer to me. Centimeter by centimeter like a cat who had spotted a tasty finch among the rose bushes. Or a dog who was smart enough to hunt a squirrel instead of chasing after it like it was some kind of ball. It got to the point where he was practically had his hand on my lap, still ‘doing’ his homework though I knew at this point the sly greaser was up to something. And that was the point where I finally had enough of this caterpillar talk and put my foot down.

“Dude,” I began, watching as he turned his hazel eyes on my blue one's. I was thrown into some kind of trance, that kind of trance you get into when the hottest girl in school passes by with merely a glance at your way. That kind of trance when you stare at the Crown Jewels in the museum with brilliant emeralds, blood-red rubies, clear as glass diamonds, ocean blue sapphires and rainbow pools and all the gems that you could only acquire in your wildest dreams. The kind of trance when you watch fish jump up a river in the middle of a pine forest, spotted green backs shining in the sun like sea glass on a hot summer day. The kind of trance when you stare in tide pools full of sea-green brilliance that shimmers and shape-shifts into patterns only seen in paintings.

But I snapped out of that hypnotizing trance as James had sat up, sitting in my lap with his jeaned legs wrapped around my waist. At this point I was utterly confused as to what his intentions were. I mean, I always heard that greaser were crazy but James always seemed like the lesser evil of the many crazy greasers I had found in my life. But this, this was fucking crazy. Why the hell would a sixteen-year-old boy it in another sixteen-year-old boy’s lap. That just makes no sense, and what makes no sense in crazy. And so, being the reasonable boy I am I pushed the greaser out of lap, trying to put a scowl on my face and also trying to ignore the sudden coldness without James body against mine. He seemed hurt for a second, but it was soon wiped away with a look of determination.

“Andy, buddy,” he pleaded, a look that always made me melt underneath that gaze. I never understood why it did that, but I would kill a person if he gave me that look. “Let me do this, please.” I scowled, not liking that he wasn’t telling what he wanted to do. And so, I voiced my concerns.

“What the hell are you going to do?” I growled.

A grin spread on his face, similar to the one a baboon would make when it got that particular juicy fig it wanted. “I’ll show you.”

I rolled my eyes then nodded, letting him do what he wanted as I myself was curious and didn’t want to miss out on this opportunity. And so I watched him, blue eyes trailing his movements. He had moved across my ocean sleeping bag to sit criss-cross-applesauce in front of me. He leaned forward, after some hesitation of course and gripped my sleeves. I raised an eyebrow at him as he gently rubbed the fabric with his thumbs, looking down at the blue fabric.

But I jolted as he pulled me forward while leaning in, causing both of our lips to crash together.

This was the point where my whole entire-world turned upside down.

My first thought was me actually registering that I was kissing a boy. Boys don’t kiss boys, boys kiss girls and the other way around. It just wasn’t right. And as a response I put my hands on his chest and feeling his heart beating rapidly. But it felt so right somehow.. I still pushed him away.

As soon as his lips parted from mine I immediately missed the contact. The warmth, his soft, pudgy lips that were slightly cracked which only made it.. _Stop. A. Boy. Kissing. A. Boy. Is. Wrong._  I mentally pounded that into my head, shutting my eyes tightly as I felt my face heat up as I recalled that kiss. Goddamn, why am I not so disgusted by it, in fact i'm completely the fucking opposite!

But I almost died seeing the look of hurt in Jame’s eyes. Hazel depths shining, staring down at the crinkly sea underneath us. He suddenly got up, turning around to head to the trapdoor that led outside the tree-house. He looked at me, a sudden resentment shining in those eyes. “I understand if you hate me now,” the greaser growled, leaning down to grip the metal handle of the oak door. Some part of me didn't want to leave. Some part of me wanted him to stay, maybe do some more of that kissing stuff. And I listened to that part.

“H-hey wait!” He turned around, a bit of hope shining in his eyes. I could still see the tears, and that upsetted me somehow. I don’t know why it did it just.. did. I sighed, taking a breath to try to explain why the hell that I stopped him. “I, uh-I don’t, I-j-just don’t leave!” I watched as he smiled his baboon smile, starting to take a step forward.

I found myself sitting in his lap, trying my best to do my homework while he just messed with my hair like monkeys grooming each other. It was honestly really nice, so of course I let him do it to me. He sighed, placing his head on my shoulder as he watched me.

“By the way, James ain’t my name. It’s Tilly.”


End file.
